Burnished Gold
by A Most Sovereign Lady
Summary: Burnished Gold has been cancelled.
1. Prologue

**Burnished Gold**

Prologue

 _Circumstance and misfortune are the mother of heroes_

 **July 23, 2176**

 **Systems Alliance Space**

 **Illyria – Elysium**

 **2:10 AM**

Throes of revelry from sailors and marines on shore leave brought headaches without end to police Sergeant Calvin Stein of the Illyrian Police Department as he sucked in a breath, drew his baton and used it to rap several times on the heavy wooden door of one of the innumerable prefabricated structures that remained from the early days of colonization, now serving as a seedy bar slash place where drinkers crashed and burned after hard nights of drinking. Behind the building, tactical teams were in position for runners. Property damage of the surrounding area, traced back to here, was worth more than a million dollars back on Earth, costs that wealthy colonies both could not, and did not, like to shoulder whenever a bunch of moronic jarheads got blitzed. "Police, open the door!" If the proprietor or whomever else was in charge refused to do so normally it would be brute force hacked open, unfortunately this was an actual door with a real lock and not an electronically connected modular design, handy he supposed.

"Cops!" A muffled voice inside sounded off, Sergeant Stein groaned, it was going to be one of those days… "Fine, have it your way." With everything he had the veteran cop of eleven years simply… stepped out of the way and let the battering ram do the job, the door went flying inward as it rocked off its hinges and came to rest as splinters of actual wood across the floor. Flashbang grenades followed that and from both sides of the building the IPD surged forward in a clinical manner shouting various forms of surrender, hands up etc. to the various addled servicemen. Not one shot was fired, nor one forceful measure undertaken beyond the flash and breach. All said and done the forty odd SAMC and SAN servicemen and women surrendered peaceably.

Sergeant Stein sucked in a breath and watched as they were loaded, in variable states of inebriation into police marked vehicles for transport to the drunk tanks at the nearest prescient, along with the civilians who'd also been inside. The Systems Alliance would probably have something to bitch about it, the mere colonial authorities stepping on their men, fuck it, Stein thought, don't break the law, don't get arrested, it was pretty simple, right?

Stein and his fellow officers failed to catch everyone, of course, tactical and precise or not, there were always fish that escaped the net.

* * *

 **July 23, 2176**

 **Systems Alliance Space**

 **Illyria – Elysium**

 **2:15 AM**

Lieutenant Catherine 'Kate' Shepard, SAMC, ducked behind a building after five minutes of bobbing, weaving and running for her life, and her reputation. Finally pausing for breath the six foot one inch blonde Marine took a second to look around her, not a soul in sight who gave a damn about a half-blitzed Marine who'd fled certain arrest and arraignment for destruction of property, being drunk in public, causing a public disturbance, causing a public nuisance and if she was being honest probably at least one count of assault. It's not that she was a hell raiser, every Marine under her knew that their Lieutenant was as hardassed as they came or they soon learned it. It's just when she had a sufficient amount of whiskey in her system, Kate's facade of iceberg quality stoicism slipped, for a few hours at least. "Ah, well, they got Stevens." She shrugged as she vocalized her thoughts with an even, slightly wobbly tone on account of the alcohol in her blood. Second Lieutenant Richard Stevens, SAMC, was two years her junior and they had grown up together on the various postings of their parents, both careerists in the navy there was no question to either of them where they were going in life. Now if only they could stop getting caught being drunk and disorderly on every single shore leave they got… It'd at least stop causing hell for their parents. Ah well, what's done was done Kate thought dourly as she started kicking rocks back to a somewhat cheap motel that she and a few other Marines in her unit been bedding down at for the last week, tomorrow was her detachment's last day ashore anyway so it was best to get the bad habits beaten out before they reboarded the vessels of the SAN.

The walk took about ten minutes, she checked her wristband, indeed, nine minutes thirty seconds, from her earlier position about three city blocks from Miller's Place, the name of the bar that she and hers had frequented every time the cruiser SSV _Washington_ laid over at Elysium. She avoided the lobby, her room was paid for through the length of her stay thanks to her debit card, and made her way to her room. It was a small thing with the typical set up of motels back on Earth, and in her experience throughout most of space, be it owned by an elf, a frog, raptor or ape. A bed with complimentary lice, a physical television with the local equivalent of HBO and a minifridge for whatever people wanted to stuff in it. The shower in the adjacent bathroom was too small, the sink didn't work, the usual. Without much thought to that the Marine shrugged off the light jacket she'd been wearing and fell on the bed fully clothed and slept a drunken, dreamless sleep. She had no idea that tomorrow would change the very outlook she had on the world.

* * *

 **6:47 AM**

An alarm blared with ungodly sound, a hand went out to mash the snooze button on instinct but the damage was done. The Marine sat up and pushed loose hairs out of her bleary blue eyes. A sense of lethargy possessed her, but long hours of endurance and denial training was sure she was wide awake. Dragging herself from the bed Lieutenant Shepard walked with uneven steps towards the bathroom, kicking off the heavy boots that had encased her feet for more than twelve hours by that point. Icy cold water shocked her eyes clear and open, the last traces of her previous evening washing down the drain with a healthy application of some soap so cheap it still had the chemical smell attached to it. As the water heated the LT brought herself to full wakefulness and was out of the bath within ten minutes, appropriately clean and in a freshly pressed service dress that represented her station, star and bars on her shoulders and peaked cap on her head. For eight minutes she cleared out the various rooms of the motel filled with her men and found it unsurprising to see that there were few available to report. The motel had accomodations for eight hundred, of these, eighty were her Marines, or there would be, if a score of them weren't currently drying out in an IPD drunk tank. Of the eighty man unit, twenty five were present for Duty, fifty five were somewhere in the various holding units of the police force… She winced, this was going to reflect badly on her, if only because something like sixty percent of her unit was effectively MIA.

"Alright!" She snapped, voice loud against the morning air and causing a few of the Marines to start. "Marching orders, we're fishing around the local prescients for our boys before they get booked for stupid shit that'll make us all look bad. Move out!" There was a chorus of affirmatives and the Marines moved out in double file before branching off in twos with a sense of purpose.

* * *

 **7:15 AM**

"Second Lieutenant Richard Stevens, SAMC." Kate directed her statement at the desk sergeant not a foot and a barrier away from her, he was an older man obviously out of shape and had been riding a desk for a long time. He was less than amused, as well, word had gotten round the IPD that the SAMC and SAN were raiding their drunk tanks for their servicemen before the judges or district attorney were awake, to smashing success no less. "Stevens..." The Sergeant, Leon Poole, went through the lists on a computer screen in front of him that cataloged arrests and detainees. "Wait here."

"Thank you kindly." The blonde Aryan-ish Marine LT across from him politely said. It wasn't really his problem if they gathered up their drunks, they'd probably end up scrubbing toilets with their toothbrush or some shit after this, fine by him. It took about ten minutes of out processing but a bedraggled looking brown haired young man appeared from the holding area in rumpled service dress. "Sign here, here, and here." Sergeant Poole said plainly, handing over an actual pen to the bedraggled man who applied his signature to various points on a release form. "You have any more of my men?" The Aryan asked, Poole checked his database. "Nope, last one."

"Thank you kindly." The Marine stated again as she and her retrieved Marine stepped out of the police station.

"You know I really ought to ream your ass for getting caught, Stevens." Lieutenant Shepard said plainly as the two walked through the streets, while they did so she sent out a message to her unit to meet back at their motel for another headcount as well as to gather together their things for reboarding later that day. "But..." Stevens spoke, his voice mellow and quiet.

"But, I'd much rather get all you fucking drunks cleaned up and looking presentable before Captain Jones comes to collect _all_ of us." Shepard said referring to the Commanding Officer of the _Washington._ She stressed the word 'all' as well.

"Yes ma'am, won't happen again ma'am." Friends or not, Stevens knew when exactly not to push his slightly superior officer and MARDET sub-commander.

* * *

 **8:20 AM**

The eighty Marines of SAMC's 88th Division's 2nd Company stood to attention before their sub-commander who looked her usual stoic and immovable self in the parking lot outside the motel they'd spent the last week sleeping in, officially anyway, most had checked in on the first day and this was their first or second time back to it at best, having spent the week across the city in brothels and bars that may or may not have officially existed in terms of legality. While still officially on leave, the final hours were similar to this across the Marine Corps and Navy alike, small bands of men and women begrudgingly giving up their last hours of perceived freedom to brace for the return to artificial gravity and the monotony of shipboard life. Their immediate superior officer, Lieutenant Commander Isabel Glenn was due to arrive within minutes, and none of the Marines present had any desire to make a pisspoor show of themselves to her, or her dragon.

Then of course, the klaxons started blaring. Shrill alarms sounded through the city, a sound not dissimilar to the old air raid sirens on Earth. "What in the fuck?" More than one voice found itself saying, all heads turned skyward.

Blooms of light from laser turrets (before the light vanished beyond the visual spectrum), the sound of screaming from hypersonic slugs as immense railgun batteries fired, the streak of missiles from surface to space and surface to air missile systems all sounded off towards the middle and upper atmosphere. Out of the clear blue sky came what they were shooting at. An uncounted horde of light ships, antiquated frigates and light cruisers, multitudes of troop transports. It was a goddamn invasion force. From airbases across the continent, the colonial defense forces were also responding, and the few antiquated ships of the Elysium Defense Fleet were already engaging the plethora of equally ancient and mismatched vessels above their world.

"Marines!" Shepard bellowed, "Spaceport, fucking _now!_ Double time, move it, move it!" The Lieutenant hollered, in double file they immediately started at a jog that bled into a combat run. Unarmed, the Marines would be of little use to the Colonial Defense Force, local laws, enforced however begrudgingly by the Alliance on their men, kept Marine armaments at the spaceports where they on and offloaded from their ships.

* * *

 **8:40 AM**

Twenty minutes under fire was entirely too long a time for a cross-country overland transit but did remain in the realm of being understandable. In that twenty minutes the firing from both sides had not ceased, buildings burned and defense platforms were knocked out but the screen of fire did not halt. While the Alliance did prefer the idea of smoke and mirrors and concentration of force beyond their colonial outposts, the colonies themselves had no qualms about procuring high quality defensive implements and training highly qualifies militia forces to defend themselves from well, things like this.

The spaceport itself was unsurprisingly under assault when the MARDET of the _Washington_ arrived, its own anti-air batteries firing periodically at overhead interdicting pirate vessels and the occasional fighter. "Lieutenant Catherine Shepard, SSV _Washington,_ reporting." She did not snap a salute at a beleaguered man with the star of a Major on his cap, who directed them immediately towards the armory, a fortified building attached to the spaceport's auxiliary structures. It was at this point that the unit began to break down into their various, well known and well drilled, smaller units such as platoons and fireteams. "Maintain radio contact at all times!" Shepard yelled at her men over the symphony of moving men and gunfire as they outfitted themselves with light armor (all that was available) and M6 assault rifles.

"These radios are local quality, lieutenant, they're shit!" A Marine, Sergeant Mason Bates hollered over the noise.

"They'll have to do, Sergeant! Radio contact, understood!?" The Lieutenant was already heading for the door with her own platoon.

"Yes ma'am!" The answer came from various sources, all across radio as though to get the point across that they understood.

"It's gonna be a long fucking day..." The Lieutenant muttered to herself as they stepped outside into the raging battle once more.

* * *

 **Author's Notes** : All owners retain their respective rights.

Okay I have entirely too many short scenes and too many breaks in this but I like it like that, this will get substantially longer as it goes on. I hope I didn't do too many grammatical errors, and this is unbeta'd. Anyway; Welcome to my semi-alternate universe novelization of Mass Effect because not enough people have done those yet, obviously. Everything and everyone you hold dear to your hearts will be recognizable, things will be slightly different but not canon defilement, mmkay.

Review if you like/hate/etc I'll give you more to work with soon, hope you like the prologue! Chapter one will cover the conclusion to the Skyllian Blitz which is meant to introduce you to my take on our beloved Lady of War and we'll get into the "meat" from around chapter two.


	2. Chapter One

**Burnished Gold**

Chapter One

 _Momento mori_

 **July 23, 2176**

 **Systems Alliance Space**

 **Illyria – Elysium**

 **12:32 PM**

As the hours passed the bold defenders of Elysium grew fewer and fewer while their conquerors numbers swelled as more of them were disgorged from shuttles from their seemingly innumerable vessels that now possessed indisputable aerial superiority. The colonial militia was on the verge of being overrun, the same holding true for the few hundred Alliance personnel scattered across the planet's surface. There was a dark thought entering the minds of more than a few people that a collar and a cage awaited them somewhere in Batarian space, if they were so unlucky not to die at the cruel mercies of one of the horde of pirates baring down on them first.

"Where the fuck is the navy!?" A voice that Kate didn't recognize sounded over the radio through the sounds of nearly unceasing gunfire and the terrified screams of fleeing and panicked people. The Marine Lieutenant ducked down behind a low sitting dirt filled concrete pot that had been intended for plant life before quickly becoming an ashtray for the use of smokers. Up the too-narrow road from her nestled between a row of buildings on either side a contingent of pirates and mercenaries advanced in a sadly sensible manner, utilizing what thin cover there was to slowly cover the distance between themselves and their opposition, her. The Marine sent a stream of super-heated hyper-sonic tungsten rods down range when one of them exposed themselves to move forward. The rods, moving at several times the speed of sound, lanced through his cheaply made armor like a hot knife through iced butter and he fell without ceremony or words, instead a pitiful, morbid gurgling rose up from his perforated chest cavity before he expired without fanfare. "Come on you fucks! Is this the best you have!?" She hollered across the distance, taunting her adversaries momentarily before she activated her radio.

"Who's still alive out there?" She demanded bluntly, a chorus of names returned to her, some she recognized, others were strangers in life, brothers in war. "Is anyone in a comprehensive unit near..." She looked towards a street sign, "Twenty-third street north?" She sent another stream of fire down range at the Batarians, a cry of pain greeted her ears among the symphony of war, excellent.

"Moving up with the remains of 3rd Platoon, ma'am, hold tight." She recognized that voice, 2nd Lieutenant Stevens was, praise God, still alive then.

"Good to hear your voice Stevens, see you when you get here, flank these bastards for me" The Lieutenant ordered sharply as she reached down to her belt for a grenade, the sparingly few explosive devices had been expended over the course of the morning however, all that remained were two less-lethal flashbangs, she pulled the pin on one without hesitation and chucked it over her barrier with everything she had. The ensuing loud bang, flash of white light and yelps of pain were followed up with her making a mad dash backward to another flower pot, staying as low to the ground as possible without impeding her movement.

A rifle grenade passed through a window in the building next to her, the owner having missed his intended target, a muffled explosion sounded off from within as the Marine peered over the side once more. There were ten still breathing, too many for a sane person on their own, and even more were crawling all over the place, it was disheartening to say the least but if she were concerned it didn't show on her face or in her body language.

The Marine was single-minded in her concentration solely on the exact moment, the world was her and them, not the battle raging in the surrounding streets, not the more of them, just her, and them. She rose from behind her cover, towering and proud as she depressed the trigger, the rifle kicked harshly as, controlled bursts of fire gone from her disciplined hands, rod after rod discharged from the railgun towards the pirates who ducked, though not nearly fast enough in the case of two. The hyper-sonic rounds tore through the steel plates of the surrounding buildings and in the funnel they'd come down, a mere alley, there was no where to hide that was sufficient. The skirmish was over sooner than it had begun. The rifle, glowing white hot emanated a heat she hadn't felt since basic years before. "Lieutenant! We're pinned down on 24th, unable to reach you at this time ma'am!" The radio squawked with Stevens' voice.

"I managed to deal with the situation, Stevens, I'm en-route, keep your heads down." Kate reported and ordered tersely, she backed out of the alley, both apprehensive and glad it was double ended.

* * *

 **12:32 PM**

Second Lieutenant Richard Stevens' platoon had, like most units planetside that day had been under assault since they had sallied out at the beginning of the attack. Two of his men were dead, another was wounded though in motion under her own power. The thought at the back of everyone's head the second hour in was now at the forefront of their minds as the fourth hour bled on. Where the fuck was the Systems Alliance Navy? The Elysian defense flotilla, a duo of ancient Geneva-class frigates, had been pummeled to death in the early stages, though not without making themselves known, and the ground based fighter squadrons had performed admirably but were simply overwhelmed by the sheer weight of number of what appeared to be every single pirate band in the surrounding clusters, while the ground batteries had been silenced with a healthy dose of bombing each. The Batarians were nothing if not thorough he lamented as he took cover behind an overturned sky car.

Down the street from him and his men's immediate position was a gaggle of pirates, all of them heavily armed and moderately armored for raids much like this one. The skirmishes with the Hegemony had become so common since both they and the SA had been colonizing world after world in the Skyillian Verge that this, he figured and perhaps not wrongly that this was the Hegemonic equivalent of a declaration of war. The Marines, as well as a few cops and a colonial militiaman spread out across the avenue, taking up positions in windows, behind vehicles and other forms of cover, advancing at that precise moment for his unit was mildly suicidal, made so less by the multitudes of pirates and more by the APC they'd brought along with them, the autocannon of which swiveled this way and that, occasionally spitting out a stream of ammunition into a defense point, or a body. Lacking in heavy weapons the men had little choice but to sit in place, when the pirates advanced they'd give them as hell as possible but the situation was, not unusually for Marines, lopsided against them.

"CM, get up here." Stevens croaked, the militiaman shuffled forward carefully, he had the heaviest firearm present, an ancient MG25 that fired actual goddamn chemically propelled bullets, you didn't see those much off Earth anymore in his experience. A century ago the weapon could've penetrated the armor of the vehicle that was their primary concern, these days it would be more of a nuisance. "Here's the plan, we're going to draw their fire, I want you to concentrate fire on a small node just under the main barrel of the gun on that thing," The colonial took a second to look, acquiring his target, "If fortune hasn't completely abandoned us, you'll be able to punch through the shields and armor there and disable it, at least long enough for us to advance until it can't fire." Suicidal plans, it was like the Marine Corps was built on these or something.

The militiaman nodded slightly and adjusted the ammunition belt on his gun before setting up against the side of the car, he made a motion that he was ready and the Marines…

* * *

 **4:35 PM**

The only explanation at this point was that they had been abandoned. There was no other way why this had carried on for so long. At FTL speeds the Alliance should have been there within the first hour, instead the day had burned on and frantic cries for help had gradually fallen silent save for a few isolated pockets of resistance, if it could be called that. Anyone who could had sealed themselves instead the hardened shelters located across the planet, while anyone outside them had been either enslaved or died in futility, nearly in total as far as she could tell. Kate's stoicism however remained in place as she ducked behind the burned out hulk of yet another overturned vehicle, infinitely glad that the rifle in her hands, still a little below the boiling point of lead, did not have a traditional ammunition magazine or she would've been dead long ago. Still, she did not crack, Marines prepared for these eventualities, they trained and drilled endlessly for these precise moments when they were hopelessly outnumbered, left waiting for the cavalry. At least, she glumly thought for a second, at least it wasn't the Batarian army, they had discipline that pirates didn't and far heavier weapons, like oh, tanks.

Rounds skipped off, and through, the remnants of the car she was behind, they were persistent bastards she had to admit. "Well come on then! Finish it!" The lieutenant didn't make a habit of taunting her enemies, however, her patience was grinding down to nonexistence. She darted from behind the car, firing wildly for a sparse second before she gained control of her rifle and methodically started mowing down figure after figure, shields punched through by the sheer volume of fire, armor liquefied by the super-heated tungsten rods. It was, at the back of her mind, somewhat exhilarating.

Then the sky exploded with noise, identical yet different from the symphony of the day, as at that moment kinetic strikes plunging into the soil as drop pods disgorged Marines, as the air filled with the sounds of close air platforms engines, she knew then, she would live. The Alliance at last, had come.

Thinking quickly and hoping her colonial radio had the range to do it she switched to the primary communications channel for Alliance forces, the specific bandwidth belonging to the SSV _Washington_ "This is Marine Lieutenant Catherine Shepard; what in the fuck took you guys so long!?" She bellowed, unabashedly angry into the commlink as she dove behind cover.

A voice that may as well have been a chorus of angels sounded off in her ear.

"Lieutenant Shepard, this is the SSV _Washington,_ This is Marine Commander Glenn, glad to hear you're still alive. Hold one while we plow the road."

She wasn't crying, was she? She didn't have time to check as the song turned against the Batarians; she couldn't count the burning wrecks, just barely visible above the cloud line, there were so many of them.

* * *

 **Systems Alliance Space**

 **Arcturus Station**

 **August 22, 2176**

 **11:23 AM**

In superbly pressed and properly starched dress blues the Marine Lieutenant stood before a board of admirals; there were fifteen of them, unfamiliar and alien faces to her they were names on the top of requisition orders, on the bottom of deployment orders, they weren't real people! It wasn't a courts-martial, they had spent the better part of a month going over every scrap of video footage they could find. Everyone agreed that the lieutenant had performed above and beyond, hell they were even using "her" victory as leverage over the nations of Earth to effectively declare independence **[1]**. It wasn't something that sat well with her, a lot of good men had died while they sat on their hands, some of them were her friends.

One of them was talking, she wasn't paying direct attention though she was facing forward and looked the part, at least.

"In conclusion of our investigation into the events on Elysium, Lieutenant Shepard." The voice finally penetrated her thoughts, Admiral Burns if she remembered right, yeah that was it, CnC of the 8th Fleet. "The Admiralty of the Systems Alliance Navy, in honor of your performance in battle, above and beyond the call of duty in defense of the colony of Elysium has decided to award to you the Star of Terra." That man may as well have just slugged her in the chest with a sledgehammer, she was not worthy of the highest honor that they could manage. Numbness crept through her entire form, from toe to scalp. "In addition, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Commander, pending immediately, we have put forth your name for recommendation into special forces training as you obviously have the aptitude for it and finally; As you are an American legally, we have also contacted the President of the United North American States in your name and recommended you for the Medal of Honor, for the same." There was the second blow, she damn sure wasn't worthy enough for that, _she'd lived._

They droned on and on after that, going over preliminary details with her before finally dismissing. While crisp, her salute to the collected headmen of the SAN was nearly robotic in nature, she was still absorbing everything they'd said. As she went to leave, preferably to go find a corner to cry in while her mask slipped off, a dark skinned man in the uniform of a captain stepped out of the shadows along the side of the room, how the hell could such a clinically lit place have shadows?

* * *

"Commander Shepard." He held out a hand, numbly, she shook it. "I'm Captain David Anderson, you're with me now, understood?"

"Aye-Aye, Capt." She snapped him a salute but he waved it off. "Where are we, capt?"

"Right now we're here, awaiting transport to Luna. After that, you get to see my—our, ship, you're my new executive officer, Shepard." Anderson said as they walked; passing offices, conference rooms and a large ponderous space that was being refitted for what she had to guess would be a senate if Earth agreed to their laundry list.

"What uh, what happened to the last guy?" Kate asked tentatively as they ducked into an airlock that led to the shuttle bay, designed to be sealed off at a moments notice the doors were kept open until they absolutely had to close to ease foot traffic for the coming and going.

"Transferred out, Commander, nothing grisly or heroic I'm afraid to say." The Captain said warmly, yeah, she liked this guy, she decided.

"Why Luna?" It had come secondhand without much thought, Captain Anderson gave a knowing smile.

"You're a spacer, spacers tend to violently puke all over the place the first time they land on Earth, I figure we'll stop off at Luna so you can get used to a form of _natural_ gravity first."

"Heh… Yeah, thanks, capt." She rubbed the back of her neck uneasily, that was pretty much true across space, kids like her, spacers, who'd never set foot on Earth, had all kinds of issues with their mother planet due to weaker bone structure (at first), and various spaceborne problems 'unique' to them, even Martians had it better.

"Off we go." Anderson said, directing the way into one of the numerous shuttle craft…

If Catherine Shepard had any idea what was going to happen next, she'd have run away from David Anderson as fast as her legs could've taken her.

* * *

Author's Notes: Respective owners retain their rights.

1.) The first point of divergence from canon, the SA as an independent entity is younger in this 'verse than in canon.

2.) Shepard has always struck me as someone who would not glorify herself on the backs of the ones who died for her achievements, those medals will hide in a sock drawer forever.

R&R :)


	3. Chapter Two

**Burnished Gold**

Chapter Two

 **Hegemonic Space**

 **Torfan**

 **SSV _Washington_**

 **January 19, 2178**

The barrage of fire against the diminutive planetoid below had begun nineteen hours previous after a tangle with the plethora of enemy ships that ranged from frigates to heavy cruisers; all of them were varied by design and none were newer than models that were standard ten years prior to the present day. This strike, the culmination of Batarian raids against Alliance worlds in the Skyllian Verge was thought by some, mostly survivors of Mindoir, to be a very long time in coming; but come it had, with fire and fury. Mountains were leveled by the guns of dreadnoughts, carving deep fissures into the face of the moon and leaving behind craters miles wide. Cruisers and frigates likewise pummeled the celestial body, knocking out weapons platforms, demolishing docking facilities and flattening all but the most hardened buildings and structures that were built into the very geosphere of the tiny world.

Now, came the hard part, landing down there and finishing the rest of the scum off for good. Orbital supremacy was absolute, there were no vessels left to oppose them, having been destroyed or disabled; with the crueler SAN officers authorizing their gunnery crews to 'practice' on the disabled ships, to the macabre and bloody glee of the men who took an ardent pleasure in obliterating the people who'd gained much at the expense of their people. Laser batteries had eviscerated escape pods with unflinching accuracy, this wasn't a battle so much as it was a slaughter.

High above it all, Catherine Shepard looked down at the bruised and battered world as she lamented that her paperwork to transfer under Anderson had been lost somewhere, though she was promoted posthaste to Lieutenant Commander. While Anderson was doing his part to see that worked out, she was still an active duty Marine and that meant all hands on deck, herself included, for what was the largest operation by the SAN and SAMC since the First Contact War and _just_ short of declaring war on the Batarian Hegemony. While it was an open secret who the pirates in the Verge and the Terminus Systems worked for most of the time, the Alliance was not on a proper war footing; and they doubted that the Bats would respond to their annihilating criminals in a provocative manner of their own.

The comms units embedded into the Marine's airtight environmentally sealed helmet chirped, as it did within the helmet of every Marine present in the fleet; this was their hour, a time to bring honor and glory to the Corps. "Marines, this is Fleet Admiral Naomi Sanderson, SSV _Denali_ ," Made sense the flag officer was on the only dreadnought present; sure, "I dislike the thought of this, Marines, but the hardened facilities down there are effectively impervious to a sustained bombardment, if only because ground penetrating radar confirms they are deep underground, and short of the _Denali_ opening fire and obliterating the planetoid outright, we need those positions neutralized. They won't take themselves; and I'm bad at inspirational speeches so I have a favor to ask, knock those bastards upside the head, try not to die and win." Admiral Sanderson's voice fell quiet for a second, "You have the undisputed support of the entire fleet, Marines, you have a target on the surface you want obliterated, if it's within our ability, it will be reduced to rubble for you. _Denali_ out." Shepard recognized the voice primarily from her awards hearing, Sanderson was the one who'd actually pinned the Star of Terra to her uniform, it was now hiding in a drawer.

"Aye-Aye, ma'am." More than one voice quietly said, though not in actual response, final weapons checks were made as the Marines, fully armed and armored in the latest heavy armor, boarded standardized and armed combat transports, in addition the Marines were dropping infantry fighting vehicles for ground support, no need to vaporize a building if you could just knock down a wall instead. As one, the multitude of several thousand transports lifted from the assault decks aboard the vessels they were stationed on and made for the cold void and the eventual surface of Torfan.

* * *

"Keep your eyes up, heads and asses down, Marines." Kate ordered bluntly as their transit came to a sudden halt with the bay-style door on the side of the transport opening, wordlessly the Marines, along with many others, disgorged from their vehicle into a disturbing quiet.

The ground around them was broken and cracked, marred with the craters from the impact of shells from mass drivers, the buildings were largely rubble and the scattered remains of Bats were everywhere, reduced to little more than smears across the charred landscape. If it were nightmarish, no one took notice of it as they moved forward, sweeping in a uniform band as the Marines went forward, their objective was an access hatch that computers onboard their armor noted to be about five hundred meters away that led downward, into God knew what was waiting for them below. To the credit of the pirates, they maintained a trigger discipline that she didn't think they were capable of until they were two hundred meters away from the access hatch, those remnants still alive on the surface had reformed into semi-coherent bands of combatants. The first stream of fire struck one of her Marines in the shields, which flared up and sent him reeling, though alive. "Cover!" Another Marine shouted as the unit spread out with startling speed born of years of training and drill behind suitably sized boulders and in craters and shell before they returned fire, the visors in their helmets kicking in and providing accurate targeting data for up to two miles and through up to five inches of steel and up to a foot of reinforced concrete, glory be to the railgun. That of course, did work both ways as rather like governments, pirates sought the best and the cutting edge and evidenced by the field of fire that was thrown up by the Marines' adversaries.

Kate, who'd taken cover in a crater peered over the edge as carefully as humanly possible to look down range between the volleys as both sides waited for their guns to cool down. "Fleet command, this is Commander Shepard, ground teams," She gave her coordinates on the return response, "I would really love it if you guys just leveled the fuck out of the thing three hundred fifty meters from us, if that wouldn't be too much trouble for you." The Marine requested plainly, an affirmative chirped in her ear and a few seconds later, what was left of those buildings, exploded in a furious storm of gunfire. "Marines!" Shepard stood up first, never sending a man into a place she would not first go herself. "Advance!" There was no human wave or great surge forward but a continuance of their former methodical advance until they'd arrived at the hatch. Opening it, the Marines did the sensible thing, they each tossed two grenades down the shaft and then closed the lid. The muffled explosions were followed by faint groans of agony, after which the pointman, armed with a shotgun for the close encounters below, went first, sliding down the ladder within on the pads of his armored hands. The next Marine, and the one after him so on and so forth down the line went in until there were a team of eight Marines within, Shepard included, leaving four men on the surface to cover their rearguard.

The nicely minced remains of pirates lay at either side of the entrance shaft, and the bottom of the ladder was torn completely to shreds, to be somewhat expected of course. "Jenkins, Rogers, Matthews and Chambers, you go left, I'm taking Daniels, and Conroy and Bond down the right, clear every room you find and try not to die." Shepard ordered calmly as she took point of her own impromptu fireteam and headed deeper into the bowels of the facility. "Maintain radio contact at all times." She added as an addendum, not that it was needed in theory.

"Aye-Aye, chief." The Marines responded in turn before they too broke off and headed deeper in…

Clearing their facility took a little above an hour in time, and while Conroy ended up having his rifle overheat, and while Chambers ended up with a broken arm from a melee tussle, none of the Marines were killed in exchange for around thirty pirates, all in all a good day as they made their way back towards the surface. The (in)famous Marine of that day was not Catherine Shepard, but Lieutenant Heinrich Vasser of the SSV _Azincourt_ who ended up being close to the only survivor of his unit, in exchange for annihilating nearly two hundred Bats and their associates in the northern sectors of the planetoid in the more intact hardened facilities; Aptly, the Marine ended up with the epithet, the Butcher of Torfan, granted to him by both Batarians and fellow Marines. It was not a flattering title from either side.

* * *

 **Systems Alliance Space**

 **Arcturus Station**

 **June 6, 2183**

Captain David Anderson chewed the inside of his cheek idly as he stood along the railing of the port-side viewing deck of Arcturus Station, which like most of the station was buzzing with the life of the Systems Alliance government as attaches, senators and more went to and fro in their daily business, not even accounting for the half a million or so people who lived here on a regular basis there was the constant transit of sailors and marines from across human space. The Captain, as well as his XO who was off in some bar somewhere getting sloshed prior to the ceremony that was going to take place today, though he was glad she wasn't an outright drunk, was here today to see the launch of his, their, new ship. After fighting for a few years to see the woman transferred to his command the culmination of that work had finally come to ahead in the form of this command, the newest and most advanced ship in the Alliance fleet. She was the end result of the finest and greatest combined sciences of more than half a million people working in the utmost secrecy in the foundries among the opaque upper clouds of Venus in the Alliance's black projects docks under the guard of the careful eyes of the best in the Navy there was; this… Now where the hell was Shepard?

Anderson looked up, as though the woman were telepathic or something there she was at the end of the corridor making her way towards him. The tall blonde woman saluted crisply, he returned the salute in kind and the two began walking towards the lifts that would take them upwards towards the pinnacle of the station; where the docks were. Their final destination was on the other side of the station beneath the eyes of the highest admirals in the fleet where they'd receive, formally, command of their vessel.

When two officers arrived, a journey of twenty minutes time they could only marvel at the beauty stretched out before them just beyond the airtight force field that kept the atmosphere within the station. She was small and lithe for a warship but still over three hundred meters in length and at least half that tall, painted in black, white and red the ship was undeniably attractive to look at, from the nacelles of her engines to the tip of her prowl. "That's us?" Shepard said, tentatively, her tone almost uneven.

"That's us, Commander. The SSV _Normandy_." Anderson responded plainly as he too beheld his chariot.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** Respective owners retain their rights.

Regarding Torfan, I felt I had to do this, but didn't want Shepard as the Butcher, I know some people do it, give her (I will always refer to Shepard in the feminine) the logical extension of career of being both a war hero and ruthless but I don't like that, she is there, but she was not the Butcher, simple.

Regarding the _Normandy_ we have reached our second point of divergence; bluntly put ladies and gentlemen _you do not let the enemy build your ships_ and humans are more than intelligent enough to know how heat dissipation works.

R&R my lovelies.


End file.
